


The Hour Before Dawn

by robotboy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: So it turns out there’s only one bed on the Falcon.(For Oscar, written before The Rise of Skywalker.)
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 265
Kudos: 1397





	1. The List

**Author's Note:**

> This _will_ be finished before the 19th. I have spoken.

So it turns out there’s only one bed on the Falcon.

Or, well, there’s one bed _left._ The survivors arrange themselves roughly in order of rank, accounting for preferences. The General gets an actual bed—no question of that—while Rose seems content tucking herself into a hidden cabinet. Rey _volunteers_ to bunk with Chewbacca: apparently she’s used to him, and he’s warm besides. Finn keeps insisting he’s fine with sharing, since he grew up in trooper dormitories. But as everyone is shuffled around, Finn ends up in an old storage closet with just one bunkmate.

‘So, buddy,’ Poe looks up from the pile of capes he’s turned into a makeshift mattress. ‘Left side or right?’

‘Oh, uh,’ Finn shifts his weight. Of all the things he was concerned about, picking a side wasn’t even on the list.

The list of things he was concerned about:

  * Not snuggling up to Poe in his sleep
  * Not getting a hard-on from snuggling up to Poe in his sleep
  * Not making it weird with Poe by any of the above, which won’t happen, so:
  * Not making it weird for any other reasons either



‘Left?’

‘Sure,’ Poe grins. This choice turns out to be a mistake, because Poe starts taking off his jacket and bundling it into a pillow-approximate shape. Choosing _right_ would probably have resulted in the same: the correct choice was probably _you know what? Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the holochess table._ Because now Poe is removing his boots and his belt. There is a glimpse of his hips as he untucks his shirt, and another hint of skin when he crouches to stow the boots in the corner.

To keep himself from choking, Finn starts undressing too. He gets his boots off without bruising himself in the cramped space. When he’s out of his jacket, Poe holds out a hand. Finn stares at it like it’s a Z6 baton. Poe raises an eyebrow, and Finn can’t help but hand the jacket over. Poe rolls the jacket tightly and takes a shirt off a hanger. He wraps the shirt around the jacket like a pillowcase, placing it on the left side of their bed. The cloth he wraps around his own jacket is bright yellow, patterned in a way Finn has never seen before.

‘This seems big, for a wardrobe,’ Finn notes.

‘Lucky for us, right?’ Poe glances up at Finn, smirking. ‘D’you think it was Solo’s?’

‘I mean, it doesn’t look…’ Finn glances down at the pile of blues and greens on the floor. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he secretly dressed like this, and that’s why it had a hidden door.’

Poe had backed into the trick mechanism when C’ai had been explaining how three could sleep on a circular bench if tesselated correctly. Finn, who’d been standing next to Poe for no particular reason, had managed to catch him before he went tumbling backwards into a surprise walk-in closet (the General having gone to bed, actual bed, and none of them willing to wake her for an explanation). So now it was Poe’s, by virtue of him having discovered it with his ass, and Finn’s, by virtue of him having saved Poe’s ass.

Not thinking about Poe’s ass is going about as well as can be expected. To help matters, Poe drops to his knees before Finn. Finn could swear he lingers there a moment before laying himself down.

‘Don’t forget the belt,’ Poe suggests. ‘It’ll dig in if you leave it on.’

So Finn fumbles with his buckle. He hurriedly untucks his shirt—not that there’s anything obvious to conceal, but it makes him feel better. He clambers down onto the mattress and arranges himself on his side, back against the wall. Poe settles to mirror his position.

It was big for a wardrobe, but for two grown men to sleep in, the space feels suddenly very small. Their faces are inches apart, and there’s nowhere for either of them to put their arms without touching. Finn places his hand on a cape.

’This is _soft,’_ he says.

‘Yeah,’ Poe smiles, peeling away the top layer of their bedding. ‘Found a fur coat.’

‘Wow,’ Finn reaches out, fingers curling through the tufts of fur. It’s thick, silky at the tips with a dense, springy layer beneath. For a moment, he’s so lost in the sensation of it that he doesn’t notice his hand is touching Poe’s. Poe brushes their knuckles together, but then he’s combing through the fur as well, like it was a coincidence. The sensation of it is comforting. It’s _comfortable_ , after so much fighting and running.

After _so much—_

‘Hey,’ Poe murmurs, his breath warm on Finn’s face. ‘You’re okay, buddy. You can sleep.’

Finn realises he must have drifted into a nightmare, because now Poe’s hand is holding his.


	2. A Wookiee in a Hurricane

Morning is heralded by the Falcon’s lights all going on at once: Finn can tell by the chorus of grumbling outside the door that it’s not just the wardrobe that’s been suddenly illuminated. Poe grunts, digging his face into the pillow to block it out. Finn is accustomed to abrupt awakenings. He blinks, noticing how Poe is nestled against his chest. Finn’s arm somehow slung itself over Poe during the night: that’s how Finn will put it, if asked. Poe scrunches his fingers into the front of Finn’s shirt. With a determined groan, he turns his face to the light, one eye still squinted shut. Finn makes a quick study of his lashes and crow’s feet: best catalogued while Poe is barely awake enough to notice how much Finn stares. Poe gradually releases Finn’s shirt, and a slow smile creeps across his face as he meets Finn’s eyes.

‘Morning,’ he smacks his lips. The morning breath is less idyllic. Finn smiles back anyway. Then he removes his arm from around Poe. Should have done that earlier.

Poe sighs, almost wistful-sounding. He rubs his cheek against the pillow, still gazing at Finn.

‘Hi,’ Finn says, his face heating up.

A thump interrupts—what, Finn thinks? What did it interrupt?—followed by BB-8 trilling for Poe. Poe draws away their blanket (another cape) and clambers into a sitting position. Finn follows, both of them making grim faces at each other to apologies for all the unavoidable elbowing.

Finn snorts. Poe might get flawless helmet hair, but his bed head looks like a wookiee in a hurricane.

‘Ugh,’ Poe rolls his eyes without needing to ask. He gives it a cursory comb with his fingers, until it looks like an ewok in a gale.Finn takes mercy, ruffling it to one side. Poe bows, showing remarkable trust in someone else fixing his hair. He’s grinning through the tumble of curls.

‘Presentable?’ Poe asks. Finn tilts his head, considering.

‘Roguish,’ he decides.

Poe barks a laugh, elbowing him (on purpose this time) and climbing to his feet. He bursts out of the closet with an enthusiastic ‘Okay!’ as if he’s been up for hours.

Finn knows he was fast asleep ten minutes ago, but that can be their secret.


	3. Super Gorgeous

He finds Rose‘s feet sticking out of a hatch beneath the Falcon’s gunner seat.

‘Hey!’ she calls. He pauses in the corridor: how does she know it’s him?

‘Uh, hey,’ he leans over the hole, and she waves a spanner in greeting. ‘You good down there?’

‘The cannon locks up,’ she says, which must be a yes.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Finn recalls. ‘You’re fixing it?’

‘Hopefully,’ she answers. Or, that’s probably what she says, but she’s definitely holding something between her teeth.

At the same time he asks: ‘Can I help?’, she says: ‘Do you need anything?’

‘Oh, uh, no,’ she laughs, bright and sudden. ‘How about you keep me company?’

‘Sure,’ Finn says, perching on the edge of the hatch. ‘That sounds good.’

‘Yrrwrrrnn...’ she’s talking through equipment again. Finn twists his neck to look at her face: it’s a glove in her mouth. He leans down and takes it for her.

‘Thanks,’ she pulls a face, like maybe keeping a glove in her mouth was a bad idea.

‘You were saying?’ he prompts. She wriggles her tongue around unhappily.

‘What was I saying?’ she produces a screwdriver shorter than her finger and starts fiddling with a panel.

‘I don’t know,’ Finn reminds her. ‘You had a glove in your mouth...?’

‘Where _is_ my... oh, thank you,’ she takes it back from him, and mercifully she puts it on instead of trying to bite it again.

It occurs to Finn that they could carry on like this all day. It’s not like he’s got anything useful to do on the Falcon. And talking with Rose is rapidly becoming his favourite thing to do.

‘Did you come to ask about kissing?’ Rose asks, like there had been some kind of preamble.

‘Kissing…?’ he repeats.

‘Yeah, because don’t get me wrong, you’re super gorgeous,’ Rose interrupts herself with a series of clangs. The words _super gorgeous_ also clang around inside Finn’s brain. ‘It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘I sort of thought we were dying?’ Rose looks up at him. It’s hard to read her expression when she’s upside-down.

‘I definitely thought we were dying,’ Finn concurs, since that’s as much as he can be certain is true.

‘So it was kind of the heat of the moment,’ Rose continues. ‘You know?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Finn nods. He does not, in fact, know: he has never had a conversation remotely like this before. But he’s a fast learner, and Rose seems to be confidently steering them in a very specific direction. ‘Heat of the moment.’

‘Besides, you’ve got that whole thing with Poe,’ she adds.

Finn is sitting down, which is why he doesn’t fall over. ‘Uh, I’ve got… what?’

‘You know,’ Rose waves the spanner around. ‘The _thing.’_

‘I _don’t_ know,’ Finn assures her. ‘What’s a thing?’

‘Don’t ask me, it’s _your_ thing. Didn’t Stormtroopers have things?’

‘Not really,’ Finn says. ‘Well, sometimes.’

‘Okay, so it’s like that,’ Rose pats his leg. ‘Actually, it’s probably nothing like that. I bet Stormtrooper things were weird.’

 _‘This_ thing is weird.’

‘See? There’s a thing.’

‘We’re just friends,’ Finn says. Saying it will make it true.

‘No, _we’re_ just friends,’ Rose taps him with the spanner. ‘Like with you and Rey.’

‘It’s not like that with Rey,’ he insists.

‘Exactly,’ Rose sounds triumphant. Finn may have lost his grip on this topic somewhere around _super gorgeous._ ’Anyway, how did she fly a dogfight with the cannon jammed?’

That story is easy to tell. Way easier than thinking about the _thing._


	4. Jettisoned Into Space

The third morning, some time before the arbitrary on-board dawn, Finn is woken by a noise. It drags him from sleep as he tries to identify it: someone outside the closet? Porgs in the walls? The Falcon’s engine finally giving up? The sound starts again: a rattling crescendo, right beside his ear.

Poe snores.

Finn counts his blessings: the ship is not falling apart. Poe has cuddled up so close to Finn that his nose is tucked behind Finn’s earlobe. Poe’s arm is looped around Finn’s waist. Finn leans back slowly, carefully, and Poe rubs his stubbled cheek against Finn’s neck. Poe shuffles closer, one foot wedging between Finn’s, Poe’s knees resting in the crook of Finn’s, his thighs pressed flush to the back of Finn’s. Finn gulps as he feels the line of Poe’s hipbone against his ass, and the heat trapped between Poe’s belly and the small of Finn’s back. Poe’s hand tightens around his waist, closing the gap between Finn’s spine and Poe’s chest.

Finn breathes out. Poe Dameron is cuddling him, and this is fine. Poe Dameron is snoring, which is less fine, but in the grand scheme of things, still fine. Poe Dameron is clinging to him so tightly that it’s starting to irritate the scar on Finn’s back, which is, admittedly, not fine. Finn is trying to simultaneously create some space between them while also enjoying the cuddle while it lasts: all he ends up doing is squirming. Poe grumbles sleepily, and then _pulls Finn even closer._ He nuzzles Finn’s ear, lips brushing over Finn’s earlobe. And this is why Finn’s list of concerns included the part about getting a hard-on. Now he has two uncomfortable reasons to get himself out of this situation. At least the stinging injury is forestalling any serious arousal.

Finn wriggles with more conviction. Poe clings to him. Then Finn reaches down to tickle Poe’s hand in the hope that it will bother him enough to move. Poe interlaces their fingers, clamping down firmly so Finn can’t continue.

He’s going to have to do it. He’s going to have to wake Poe up and have an awkward conversation. That’s the rest of the list out the window, jettisoned into space.

‘Poe,’ he whispers. It comes out hoarse. That’s what you get for trying to say something you really, really don’t want to say.

He swallows, wets his lips, and tries again. ‘Hey.’

Poe snores even louder. Finn brushes his thumb over Poe’s knuckle, a constant enough pattern that Poe can’t ignore it. Poe makes a startlingly unhappy noise behind Finn’s ear, shoving himself closer like the key to more sleep is somewhere under Finn’s skin. It rubs Finn’s scar and Finn hisses, arching his spine to get away from it.

‘Hnnmm?’ Poe mumbles. His hand loosens around Finn’s. ‘Finn?’

‘Yeah,’ Finn confirms, and Poe prises himself away from Finn’s body.

This is what Finn wanted. It’s exactly what he expected: Poe pulling away the moment he realised what he was doing, and who he was doing it to.

Only—only. Not what he wanted at all.

‘Sorry buddy,’ Poe says. ‘Didn’t realise what I was doing.’

Maybe it would be better to let Poe drift off again, and hopefully forget that anything happened.

‘It’s okay,’ Finn tells him, since all his choices in life are preceded by _maybe it would be better if-s._ ‘It just stings, where you—the scar.’

What he’s not saying: _the cuddling part was good. Assuming you meant to be cuddling me, and not whoever you were imagining I was because you were asleep._

’Scar…?’ Poe’s voice gets a bit louder, and a bit clearer. There goes the hope that he’d drift off. _‘Oh._ Your scar. Oh, no, I’m sorry.’

The tone of this _sorry_ is different from the last one. Poe is shrinking back, cramming himself against the wall like Finn is allergic to him.

Finn sighs, and rolls over to face him. ‘How about…’ he almost loses his nerve. ‘What if we—?’

He takes Poe’s shoulder and steers him. Poe doesn’t get it at first, so it takes a bit of manhandling before he figures out that Finn is persuading him to flip over. Poe goes pliant after that, tucking himself back against Finn. Now it’s Poe’s spine pressed to Finn’s chest, Finn’s nose in Poe’s hair, Finn’s arm wrapped around Poe. And that’s—

‘Ooh,’ Poe says. ‘This is nice.’

‘Good?’ Finn asks, because he always has to push things.

‘Mmmmm,’ Poe’s voice is warm and golden. As he settles, he somehow gets heavier in Finn’s arms. His hair still smells of salt and smoke.

Finn thinks about everything except how Poe’s ass is snugly in his lap, and maybe half of his list will be salvageable in the morning.


	5. The Threat of Staples

‘So, I was thinking,’ Poe pulls him aside that afternoon. ‘Your scar.’

Misery loves company, Threepio likes to say, so of course Poe’s been thinking about how snuggling all night was a terrible idea.

‘Has anyone checked it since Crait?’

‘They patched me up after the speeder crash,’ Finn says. ‘But I mean, it’s mostly healed.’

 _‘Mostly?’_ Poe raises an eyebrow.

‘People were dying,’ Finn reminds him. ‘I didn’t want to—‘

‘What, miss out?’ Poe scoffs. ‘Come on. Let’s see if there’s anything left in the med bay.’

‘Other people need that stuff,’ Finn insists, but Poe is dragging him by the hand.

‘Buddy, if you don’t stop putting yourself last I’m gonna staple you up like I did with the jacket,’ Poe warns him. He steers them into a room that has been recently repurposed into the only med bay on board. Finn’s useless protests continue when Poe lifts him by the hips and scoots him onto the table. ‘Come on, shirt off.’

These really, _really_ aren’t the circumstances Finn wanted for him to say that.

‘What, you’re gonna do it?’

‘Hey,’ Poe starts rummaging through drawers. ‘I’ve done field medicine.’

‘You just threatened to staple me!’

‘You just said everyone else was more important!’

‘I lost your jacket.’

The confession spills out of Finn before he can stop it. Poe recovers from the sudden subject change, his shoulders dropping.

‘Oh,’ he says softly. He squeezes Finn’s arm. ‘Buddy, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. You’re _alive,_ you know? That’s what’s important.’

‘Yeah,’ Finn scowls, staring at his lap. ‘I know. It’s just… you gave it to me.’

‘So it was yours,’ Poe shrugs. ‘Technically, I lost it before you did.’

‘I know, I _know_ that, it’s just,’ Finn stares at the ceiling, trying very hard to dislodge the lump in his throat. ‘It was _mine._ I’d never…’

He doesn’t finish, because even in his head it sounds pathetic. _Never had anything that was mine before._

‘Hey,’ Poe slips his arms around Finn’s waist. The hug is admittedly weird, because Poe’s trying very hard not to touch his back. ‘I get it.’

Finn rests his chin on Poe’s shoulder. ‘It’s stupid, when we lost _people…’_

‘It’s not stupid,’ Poe murmurs. ‘Sometimes it’s like that.’

Finn sniffs, and pretends he didn’t. Then he twitches, because Poe is messing with his shirt. ‘What are you…?’

‘Checkup time,’ Poe says. He’s hanging onto Finn’s shirt as he steps back from the hug, so Finn can either let him keep pulling or fall off the table. ‘There you go.’

Finn resists the urge to cross his arms over his chest. It’s warm on the Falcon, anyway. It’s only getting warmer as Poe looks him up and down.

Finn knows, objectively, that he’s been conditioned by Stormtrooper training. But he’s never really had any basis for comparison, to differentiate his own experiences from _how life just is._ Except in moments like this, he’s pretty sure other people don’t hear Imperial klaxons in their head when Poe Dameron bites his lip.

Poe Dameron is biting his lip.

‘The, uh,’ Finn scratches the nape of his neck. ‘The scar’s on my back.’

‘Yeah,’ Poe breathes, then snaps himself out of whatever it was. ‘Although, you got a little bit on your shoulder there.’

‘Uh-huh?’ is about as intelligent as Finn can manage.

‘Yep,’ Poe approaches. Finn cranes his neck to look as well. It really has healed, for the most part. He reaches up to pull the skin taut and Poe catches his hand, jerking his head as if to say _don’t mess with it._

‘It didn’t tear open again during the fighting?’ Poe asks.

‘Not at the front,’ Finn says, so Poe moves around to examine his back. His fingers trail across Finn’s hips, so Finn knows where he’s standing. Finn takes a deep breath, and squares his shoulders.

Poe’s fingers press near his spine. Finn can feel where his skin is tighter, less flexible from the scarring. Poe tugs gently and Finn hisses. That’s the place where it stings.

‘Sorry,’ Poe says. One hand stays on Finn, while the other is messing with equipment. ‘Looks like it did split open a bit. I’ll clean it up.’

‘You don’t need to—‘

‘Well tough, I’m doing it,’ Poe scolds him. ‘It’s just disinfectant, nobody’s putting you in a bacta tank.’

Something cool glides over his skin. It feels weird, the numb scarring beside the tender wound. Poe steadies him with a hand splayed across his middle back. Finn focuses on the broad palm, the rough fingertips, the radiating heat in contrast to the cool substance that Poe is applying.

‘Anybody ever put you in a bacta tank?’ Finn asks. No Stormtrooper ever ranked high enough to merit one.

’Nah. But I was there when you were in the…’ Poe’s hand leaves his skin, and Finn sees it waving around in his peripheral vision. ‘Bag.’

Finn winces, glad Poe can’t see his face. He probably looked ridiculous. Also, naked. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Yeah,’ Poe keeps working, dabbing chilly dots of sealant along the broken skin. ‘Wanted to be there when you woke up.’

‘Oh,’ Finn nods. ‘Sorry I missed you.’

‘That’s my line, I think,’ Poe chuckles.

‘Yeah,’ Finn shrugs. ‘I mean, you didn’t have to.’

‘Course I did,’ Poe says. ‘You’re my friend.’

Coming out of Poe’s mouth, it sounds completely different from how Finn told Rose _we’re just friends._

Finn tries not to shiver as Poe checks along the rest of the scar, fingertips skating across Finn’s back.

‘Okay,’ Poe gives Finn’s hip a hearty slap. ‘All fixed.’

‘Thanks,’ Finn jumps off the table. ‘Hey, uh, Poe?’

‘Yeah?’ Poe’s head stays bowed as he puts away the med supplies.

‘Where’s my shirt?’

‘Sorry,’ Poe laughs, grabbing it off a shelf. Finn glances at him while putting the shirt back on. Poe doesn’t meet his gaze, but his eyes flash at Finn’s waist before it disappears under his shirt.

For a moment, nothing happens.

‘So…’ Finn shifts from foot to foot. ‘Did you uh, need anything checked?’

Poe snaps back to himself, like he’d been a parsec away. ‘Oh! No, no, I’m good, buddy.’

A second later he grins, clapping Finn on the arm. His eyes are always dark, but Finn would swear the hint of brown in his irises is almost swallowed by black. Finn might just be imagining a tint to his cheeks and the slight gap between his lips.

Or, he might not be.


	6. Astromech Slang

The thing about the whole Resistance fleeing the First Order in a souped-up freighter is that after the initial panic, there’s not actually much to do on board. They resupply with drops from allies, never landing on a world long enough to be spotted. So everyone is cooped up, and bored out of their minds. They keep assuring Finn he’s vital to the Resistance, and he tries his best to live up to it. The General has him attend strategy meetings, where he dredges up everything he can remember or speculate about the First Order’s operations. But those only take up so much of the day.

A few things happen when they’re bored:

  * Rey and Rose discover a mutual enthusiasm for engineering, and decide to rebuild the hyperdrive _while they’re in hyperspace_
  * Connix and Chewie set up a ruthless holochess tournament and Poe gets eliminated in the first round
  * R2 teaches BB astromech slang from the Clone Wars, which is apparently very rude if you understand binary
  * Finn’s hair gets longer than it’s ever been



Finn tries not to dwell on superlatives. Every day is the longest he’s been free from the First Order. He has a secret language with Rey for when they try new food: her eyes go as round as saucers and she stuffs her cheeks like she can store it for later. Finn is the opposite, pacing it out in tiny bites so he can savour it (or gradually adjust to it).

Anyway. One day a woman called Teza elbows him, and nods at his hair.

‘You growing it out?’ she asks.

‘Oh,’ Finn tries to look up at his own head. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘I think you can do what you want,’ she says. ‘But you could do something fun with it.’

To date, Finn’s options for his hair have been to shave it; or to avoid being ordered to shave it again. After a week on the Falcon, _something fun_ sounds amazing.

‘You got any ideas?’

She shrugs, with half a smile. ‘A few.’

She leads him to one of the smaller rooms and sits him on a crate. Then she produces a (frankly terrifying) number of blades.

‘Still want to do this?’ she asks when she sees his face.

Finn nods firmly. ‘It’ll just grow back, right?’

She laughs. ‘I won’t wreck it. What do you like?’

‘Uh...’ Finn has been getting more practice answering this question. ‘I like yours?’

‘It’s a bit short for that yet,’ she laughs. ‘But we could try something like it.’

There’s something in her accent when she says that. Finn can’t place it. She fiddles a bit with his hair before picking up a blade. Finn holds still while she works. Her touch is so light there’s no pulling when she clips the sides. He can only see the speed of it in the corner of his eye.

‘Do they still shave all the troopers?’ she asks.

That’s when it clicks. She’s Imperial. _Was_ Imperial: now Resistance, same as Finn.

It occurs to him that maybe the haircut wasn’t the real reason she wanted to spend time with him.

‘How long ago?’ he asks her.

She follows the shift in conversation without pause. She starts to tell him, and when she does, something in Finn dislodges. It hurts when they talk about it, like pulling off a scab. But maybe—Finn says this to her, and she quietly agrees—maybe it’s the kind of thing that needs to hurt before it gets better. So they talk about it, and Teza starts working a different style on the crown of his head, and by the time they’re done, maybe it’s getting better. At least his hair is.

When Finn emerges, it’s the General who notices first.

‘Look at you!’ she beams. Finn ducks his chin, hiding from the chorus of compliments.

‘It was all Teza...’ he starts to say.

‘All me,’ she agrees, nudging Nien aside at the holochess table.

‘You look good!’ Leia thumps Poe in the arm. ‘Poe, doesn’t he look good?’

Poe could use a haircut of his own, the way his face is hidden under his curls. He nods briskly, mumbling, and Leia whacks him again.

‘Looks great,’ Poe murmurs. His jaw grinds like he’s chewing the inside of his lip. It makes him pout.

‘Thanks,’ Finn says, significantly quieter than he means to.

Poe folds his arms, slouching in his chair. He shoots a glare at Leia, who raises her eyebrows at him.

Later, Finn finds Rey in the cockpit.

‘He hates it,’ Finn says.

She tries very hard not to giggle.

 _‘You_ hate it!’ he accuses her.

‘I like it,’ she grins. ‘So does he.’

‘Sure.’

She rolls her eyes at him, sprawling out in the pilot’s seat. ‘Yes, _sure.’_

‘How do you know?’

‘ _Jedi powers,’_ she drawls.

‘Ugh,’ he wrinkles his nose at her. ‘Wait, really?’

‘No!’ she laughs, shoving him gently.

‘Have you ever even cut your hair?’ Finn asks.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she flips a loose toggle on the Falcon’s control panel. ‘I hate it when it gets too long.’

‘Too long?’ Finn repeats. ‘At what point can you even tell that it’s…’

He trails off, because Rey is looking behind him and a grin of pure mischief breaks across her face.

‘Hey,’ Poe sticks his head into the cockpit. Then the rest of him comes stumbling in, pushed by BB-8. ‘I, uh, wanted to say sorry.’

‘What for?’ Finn asks. BB thumps Poe in the legs again.

‘I was rude,’ Poe says very quietly. Rey’s eyes are wide and too-innocent.

‘Oh, right,’ Finn shrugs. ‘You’re fine.’

‘I mean I like it,’ Poe talks like the words are being forced out of him.

‘You don’t have to like it…’

‘I do, though,’ Poe assures him. At this point, Rey is openly smirking at BB. ‘It’s just different.’

‘Good different…?’ Rey prompts.

‘ _Really_ good different.’

Poe looks at Finn’s face, and at his hair, and there _is_ something appreciative in the slow, hooded gaze. Suddenly the cockpit feels very crowded.

BB-8 trills and beeps beneath them. Poe’s mouth falls open in shock and Rey bursts out laughing.

‘What? What did he say?’ Finn asks.

‘Something _very rude,’_ Poe crouches down to scold BB-8.

‘I think he was right,’ Rey chuckles. ‘Harsh, but fair.’

Finn’s the only one in the room who doesn’t speak binary. _‘What_ did he say?’

Poe starts: ’He called me a—‘

‘He said Poe was very brave,’ Rey interrupts.

Poe’s mouth shuts. He points an accusatory finger at Rey, then drops it. Rey shrugs at him, while BB continues to argue (it sounds like arguing to Finn).

Poe just sighs.


	7. Saccharine

Here are the things Finn dreams about:

An orchard on the side of a hill. Rows and rows of trees. The pattern of their planting changes: they might be a grid; or isometric; or a spiral. In some dreams, they’re precisely spaced, clear avenues of grass that stretch on forever. Other times, they huddle like a forest, so thick he can’t see the sky.

The fruit falls fat and over-ripe from the branches. In nightmares, he must salvage them from the ground. They bruise at the touch, and when he tries to hold them safe the skin bursts in his grasp. Sickly-sweet juice runs between his fingers. The itching stickiness used to wake him, too late.

He dreams of this place, and of a road between two cliffs, and a city drenched in rain and light.

‘Do you only dream about things you’ve already seen?’ he asks Poe. They are both, for no reason, awake in the middle of the night.

Poe’s hand is dry in Finn’s. The savoury smell of him is an anchor.

‘Dunno,’ Poe murmurs. ‘I guess you could dream about the future, if you’re Force sensitive.’

‘Are you?’

Finn can hear him smile. ‘Nah. I think I just dream about stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

Poe whistles through his teeth. ‘Uh, let me think. I had a dream that BB could speak Basic. And you know, the usual. Flying. Falling. Showing up to ceremonies naked.’

Finn laughs, and Poe jostles him. ‘I’ve had that one.’

‘Hope we can’t dream the future, then, buddy.’

‘Yeah,’ Finn lays his head on Poe’s shoulder. He wonders if he used to know what the fruit tasted like.


	8. A Handful of Soap

Metal shrieks and the Falcon shudders alarmingly. There’s a yell from somewhere inside the ship.

‘YES!’ it’s Rose. ‘I AM THE PIPE MASTER.’

When she emerges Chewie hollers, sweeping her into a crushing hug. Finn catches Rose’s muffled voice: ‘Okay okay okay yeah I think you need it, pal, why don’t you go test it out?’

Chewie ruffles her hair and lumbers down the hallway. There are some loud clanks, a rushing sound, and the call of a happy wookiee.

‘What did you just do?’ Finn asks.

Rose gestures at herself, soaking wet and rumpled. ‘There’s a shower in the ‘fresher. A _real_ shower, big enough for a wookiee.’

‘What,’ Teza scoffs. ‘With _water?’_

‘Hot water!’ Rose smiles.

Poe turns to Leia. ‘Did you know this?’

‘I knew _about_ it, but it was long broken last time we flew,’ her expression grows distant, but the look in her eyes is fond. ‘We didn’t have Rose Tico on board.’

‘You know the girl to call if you need your plumbing looked at,’ Rose announces.

Rey must have been stuffing bread into her mouth again, because she chokes. Finn thumps her hard on the back: by the time she’s recovered there are tears on her cheeks and Rose is busily organising who’ll take turns in the shower.

Everyone is so sick of the struggling sonic—and of how everyone else smells from using the sonic—that the demand is high. It’s decided people will go in pairs, since the space is so big.

Finn can see, objectively, how this is logical, and how it’s also logical that since he and Poe share sleeping quarters they’ll be comfortable in the shower together. He thinks of all kinds of logical things as their shipmates disappear and reappear looking damp, clean, and thoroughly pleased. Chewie’s fur is positively lustrous: Leia braids longer tufts of it into patterns for him.

Finn should be used to sharing a ‘fresher, he reminds himself as he undresses. It’s not like Stormtroopers ever got any privacy, and it was probably the same for Poe in the Resistance. Except simple things become fundamentally different when applied to Poe Dameron, and Finn should be used to _that_ by now.

‘Ready?’ Poe nudges Finn’s shoulder with a grin.

‘You know, I’ve never actually—‘

Poe cranks the water on and Finn yelps. It’s not cold, but his body only registers the fact after a second. It’s like rain, but warm. Poe lets out a long, satisfied groan, tilting his face up to the stream. He stretches his arms out then slicks his hair back. It causes the muscle in his upper arm to bunch and flex—it has to be on purpose. He has to _know,_ right? Finn almost asks, but his throat is too dry. He cups his hands and splashes water onto his face.

The steam is nothing like the crisp, processed air on a ship. Finn learns how to breathe it in. Tension he didn’t know existed unravels from his shoulders. He rocks back on his heels, letting the water slide over him.

 _‘Ooooh,_ yes,’ Poe growls. Finn looks over and Poe has found an enormous bottle of heavy-duty soap (Chewie must have left it behind). He offers it to Finn, and Finn cups his hands to accept a squirt of it. Then Poe squeezes the bottle straight onto his own chest. He splays his fingers to spread the lather across pectorals and collarbones, driving into a slicked trail of bubbles down his waist, and Finn is standing there like an idiot with a handful of soap.

Finn knows the contours of Poe’s body from having it pressed against him every night, but the colour and the texture of his skin are revelations. There are the shadows of his hipbones and the peach-fuzz of his ass, the strain of his thighs as he hops from one foot to the other to get them soaped up. And—yeah, and Finn’s looking at his dick. Poe’s not taking any notice, so Finn can glance at him and realise that he knows the shape of it from sleeping closer than strictly necessary sometimes.

Finn slops soap on himself, so it isn’t obvious that he’s been standing there gawping the whole time. The smell is sharp and alien, but he supposes everyone’s going to smell of it soon. His scar has healed well enough that he doesn’t have to work around it. It’s been that long: what a way to mark time.

‘Hey, uh, buddy?’ Poe’s voice is almost drowned out by the water.

‘Yeah?’ Finn blinks water from his eyes.

‘I can’t reach my back,’ Poe explains. ‘Could you...?’

‘Yeah!’ Finn says too fast. ‘Sure, yeah, I got you.’

‘Great,’ Poe grins, relieved. He turns around.

Finn scoops foam off Poe’s shoulders and sweeps it along his spine. Poe arches into it more than he needs to. Finn can feel the pleased humming through Poe’s back as he works, his fingers gliding over smooth skin interrupted by scars and moles Finn promises to himself he’ll map out properly someday. His hands fit so well at Poe’s waist, and the soap makes it too slippery, too easy to slide lower.

The heels of his palms are resting at the rise of Poe’s ass. The water could turn ice cold right now and Finn would deserve it.

‘Mm,’ Poe murmurs. ‘Is that everywhere?’

It isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

‘Uh-huh,’ Finn stammers.

‘Oh,’ Poe sounds surprised. His head tips back, until it’s resting on Finn’s shoulder. ‘Thanks.’

And before he pulls away, he turns his head so Finn gets a scratch of stubble across his throat. And Poe’s nose sort of brushes his pulse point, and Finn is still thinking _sort of?_ as Poe stands upright.

‘You need me to...?’ he asks.

‘Nah, I got it,’ Finn says, then regrets that this is true.

‘Huh,’ Poe raises his eyebrows. ‘You’re flexible.’

This is patently obvious from how they’ve squeezed themselves into the closet all this time. But Poe’s eyes drag over him, down then up, like he’s never appreciated the fact until right now.

It really would be best if the water went cold, about now. It stays stubbornly warm.

Finn half-heartedly starts rinsing the soap off, because if he doesn’t he’s going to feel more slimy than seductive. Poe takes the cue to do the same, until both of them are properly clean. They both dawdle, enjoying the warmth, but sooner or later someone’s going to bang on the door.

Poe scrubs his hands over his face. His fingers catch on his mouth, parting his lips. He lingers there, his eyes closed, thumb tracing the corner of his mouth. He lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders rising and falling. Finn wants to reach out, to copy the movement. But Poe opens his eyes, with a sidelong at Finn like he’s read Finn’s mind. And Finn reaches instead for the cape he’s requisitioned as a towel. Because if he touches Poe’s mouth and then gets interrupted, he’s not sure he’d ever be brave enough to do it again.

He dries off quickly, not looking up. Poe shuts off the water and steps out.

‘Hey,’ Poe says. ‘You missed a spot there.’

‘Where…?’ Finn tries to look over his shoulder. Poe dabs his own cape at the small of Finn’s back. Finn doesn’t shiver, but it’s a close thing.

‘I got you,’ Poe grins, tying the cape around his hips. It seems indecently low, now Finn knows where that trail of dark hair leads.

‘Yeah,’ Finn murmurs.

True to form, someone hammers on the door.

‘You two better not be—‘

‘Okay, okay!’ Poe shouts, flinging the door open. He strides past Rose, giving her a brief clap on the arm. ‘Good work in there.’

Rose raises her eyebrows at Finn, who raises his back. When it becomes clear he can raise his the highest, she rolls her eyes.

‘You better have left some hot for me,’ she grumbles.


	9. Taking the Porg for a Walk

After the shower, something changes in the closet. It’s not like there’s much room for variation, so the half-inch Poe leaves between them before they fall asleep feels like a mile. Finn still wakes up with Poe settled in his arms, but Poe’s started fixing his own hair in the mornings. It’s not a big deal, but—well, there’s no bigger deals for Finn to distract himself with on the Falcon, so it’s the biggest deal he’s dealing with.

He tries to find a moment alone with Poe that isn’t the place they sleep, and it turns out to be impossible. Poe’s not avoiding him: he still calls him _buddy_ and there are still friendly hugs. They’re just a little more strictly-friendly than they used to be. And Finn aches with how much he misses it.

Poe’s usually in the main hold with everyone. When he’s not, Finn thinks maybe this is his chance. They can clear the air. Maybe get back to wherever this was going before. He searches through the corridors until he hears Poe’s voice, followed by BB-8 beeping. Finn pauses in the hallway outside a room when Poe hisses: ‘But it’s _Finn.’_

BB responds in rapid binary.

‘You weren’t there, buddy,’ Poe sounds upset. ‘I showed my ass, and I mean _literally_ showed my ass.’

Finn crams himself against the nook in the wall.

‘But if he _wanted to,_ he _would have_ by now, right?’ Poe asks.

BB makes a questioning noise.

‘Maybe he just wants friends.’

BB interrupts Poe with some scolding beeps that Finn’s familiar with.

‘No, I mean, of course we’d still be friends, but not if I blew it.’

A trilling. Finn presses his fist to his mouth, like he can will himself to breathe quieter.

‘I can’t lose him. Even if you don’t think—’

BB’s beeps get more musical, from _bwarps_ to _blips_. Finn thinks he has the gist of the conversation. If Poe leaves the room now, Finn’s heart is going to come crashing out of his chest.

Something tickles Finn's ankle and he almost hits the ceiling. He looks down and two limpid black eyes stare up at him. The porg’s beak opens and Finn scoops it up, trying to bundle the creature in his shirt before it can make a noise.

‘I know. But it’s just... he has so much going on and—‘ another beep— ‘I _know_ he can, he’s tougher than anyone. I just... I know, buddy. But this is great, really. This is amazing. He doesn’t need me to come in and make a mess of it.’

A warning beep at Poe. The porg starts wriggling, and Finn tries to soothe it by ruffling its feathers with his finger.

‘Okay, _I_ don’t need me to come in and make a mess of it. You think _anyone_ would forgive me if it turns out he doesn’t—‘

BB trills sharply. Finn stares at the porg and tries to silently communicate _I will feed you to Chewbacca, don’t think I won’t._

‘Yeah, but buddy, you don’t _know.’_

The beeps get a rude tone to them. The porg makes a determined attempt to break free, and Finn lowers it carefully to the floor.

‘It’s not like that! It’s just a small room that we both found. I don’t care if everyone—wait, everyone thinks that?’

The porg, upset at being abandoned, squawks loudly. Finn grinds his teeth, head thumping against the wall. There’s nowhere to hide that won’t be immediately obvious that he’s eavesdropping. He steps a few feet back from the doorway as BB-8’s head pokes out.

‘Hi there, BB,’ Finn scratches the back of his head. He sounds like a broken protocol droid. ‘Just… taking this porg for a walk.’

The porg sits down.

‘Finn?’ Poe appears above him.

‘Hey!’ Finn waves. His smile probably looks terrifying. ‘Do you know anything about… walking porgs?’

Poe’s mouth hangs open for a second. ‘I, uh… I know _nothing_ about walking porgs. Are you supposed to walk them…?’

‘Yeah, uh, Rey… told me to?’ Finn improvises. ‘I’m not very good at it.’

‘Oh, buddy, I’m sure you’re…’ Poe looks at the porg, which has settled down like the floor is a nest. ‘Okay, maybe you need some help.’

‘That would be great!’ Finn nods. He picks up the porg, and is pecked on the fingers. He puts the porg down.

BB-8 starts rolling down the corridor. The porg leaps up and trots after him.

‘BB’s got the hang of it,’ Poe notes.

‘Yeah, we can just… follow his lead?’

They do circles of the corridor. Finn thinks maybe conversation will turn back around to what BB and Poe were discussing, especially when BB clips Poe quite hard on the shins at one of the turns. Finn could bring up the awkward fumbles in the trooper dorms, that brought brief satisfaction but left an aching need for more. He could find a way to tell Poe that he’s not completely inept—porg-walking aside. But maybe, very probably, fumbling with troopers and whatever is not-yet-happening here are completely different. He hopes so.

They keep walking, and they talk about everything else, and the porg eventually goes to sleep and BB goes to gossip with R2. They’re still walking, and they don’t talk about it, but Finn makes Poe laugh and Poe puts an arm around him and grinds his fist into Finn’s shoulder, so that’s alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day left! [screaming]


	10. It has to be Now

A thousand times in Finn’s life, he has thought to himself: _now, it has to be now,_ and hesitated. And then there was once, while his friend’s blood turned from red to brown on his helmet. And it took Poe Dameron, holding his elbow and looking him in the eye—had anyone really looked him in the eye before?—and saying _‘We’re gonna do this.’_

So maybe Finn’s got better with practice, running after Rey and saving the Resistance a couple of times. He should _not_ be so bad at this.

He’s lying opposite Poe in the closet, same as every night. It’s pitch dark, but they already know the room intimately. Finn knows how small a distance he would need to close. And Poe knows he’s restless, picking at a seam on the cape.

‘You wanna talk about it, buddy?’ Poe’s breath is a soft gust of air on his face.

A soft laugh escapes him. ‘Not really.’

‘Okay,’ Poe twines their fingers together, so Finn will stop fidgeting.

Finn takes a deep breath, and another. His heart doesn’t slow down.

’Do you ever feel like you’re _waiting_ for something to happen, but you don’t know what it is?’

Poe chuckles. ‘All the time, buddy.’

‘When does it stop?’

Poe sighs, squeezing his hand. ‘I’ll tell you if I ever find out.’

Poe keeps holding his hand. All these things have become normal, somehow, at some point. Sleeping together, showering together, holding hands. Maybe that’s enough (it’s not).

‘You sure you’re okay?’ Poe asks.

‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?’

Poe snorts. ‘Well, lots of reasons. But for one, your heart’s going pretty fast.’

‘Oh,’ Finn nods. ‘Is it?’

Poe tilts Finn’s hand, brushing his lips over the tip of Finn’s thumb. ‘Mmhmm.’

If his heart wasn’t racing before, it is now. Of all the ways for Poe to check his pulse... Finn tries to will it slower. It doesn’t work.

He moves his thumb: only a fraction, barely a hair’s breadth, but in this room it’s an infinite distance from the swell of Poe’s lip to the corner of his mouth. Then Finn brushes back again, the callus of his thumb catching on the edge of Poe’s smile. He comes back to rest in the middle, and if he wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have felt the way Poe’s breath stutters. He wouldn’t know how much heat escapes Poe’s parted lips. And Poe can probably still feel his pulse, now that Finn’s thumb rests delicately between Poe’s teeth.

Finn nudges, with just a little pressure. A reaction courses through Poe, a quiver from head to toe. And there, at the tip of Finn’s thumb, is Poe’s tongue. As hot and tender and full of potential as the centre of the galaxy.

_Now. It has to be now._

Finn kisses him. His hand slides to cup Poe’s jaw, leaving Poe open-mouthed when Finn’s lips crash into his. Poe moans, and it’s so loud that Finn’s grateful the sound is muffled because otherwise the whole Falcon would probably hear it. It’s lucky, really, that Finn doesn’t plan to stop kissing him.

Poe takes Finn’s face in both hands like it’s something precious. Every time his tongue finds Finn’s, he moans again, a short and stifled buzzing in Finn’s mouth. Finn breaks for air, to see if Poe’s actually trying to say something, and Poe just dives back in for more. Finn’s teeth catch on Poe’s lip and Poe’s hips surge forward in response. And if Finn thought he had some idea—from sleeping nestled together and spying in the shower—the hard length of Poe’s cock is a completely different feeling. Finn is suddenly too warm, tugging at Poe’s shirt so they don’t overheat and combust together.

Poe is desperate, rushing to keep his mouth on Finn’s, even as he writhes and his shirt gets bunched up around his chest. His hips rock against Finn’s, and he might be exhaling the word _‘yeah’_ on Finn’s cheek.

‘Come on,’ Finn mutters. ‘You wanna help me with this?’

Poe laughs, and manages to get his shirt off without bruising anything. He turns his attention to Finn’s shirt, dragging it up over his head and stealing a kiss while Finn’s hands are trapped in the sleeves.

Skin slides flush against skin, and Finn’s senses flood with the smell of Poe. Some part of him is always going to associate it with the jacket. And maybe, now, with this.

Finn touches everywhere he can: the breadth of Poe’s shoulders and the firmness of his chest, restless in finding what will make Poe shudder beneath his hands. He skates his thumb across a nipple and Poe gasps, so Finn does it again.

Poe grips Finn’s arms like he needs to hang onto something, fingers digging in and encouraging Finn lower. Finn’s hands find their way back around Poe’s waist, from the front this time, so he can feel the flutter of breath in Poe’s belly and the strength coiled in Poe’s core. It’s so easy to move down and follow the lines of those hipbones, hooking into the waistband of Poe’s pants. Poe mirrors the movement, letting go of Finn’s elbows to press his palm against Finn’s belly and inch lower, while Finn bucks up to meet him. Poe’s deft fingers find the shape of Finn’s cock. Finn almost yelps, but Poe’s other hand claps over his mouth.

‘Ssh, that’s it buddy,’ Poe murmurs, pressing his forehead to Finn’s. He squeezes and Finn whines, biting down hard on his own lip to keep quiet. Poe strokes a few times, rough through the fabric—a mercy, really, because otherwise Finn would come on the spot—and replaces the hand on Finn’s mouth with a wet, devouring kiss that’s more stubble burn than anything else. Finn sort of grunts through it, nudging his way free to mouth around Poe’s jaw and lick the tendon in Poe’s neck that always drives Finn to distraction. It distracts Poe, too: Poe’s voice ratchets up an octave when Finn sucks the fragile skin into his mouth. Finn nibbles experimentally and Poe thrashes, head thumping against the wall.

Finn goes _‘ooh’_ sympathetically and Poe laughs.

‘Okay, okay, I’m okay…’ he mutters. ‘You’re _good_ at that.’

‘Yeah?’ Finn grins, nuzzling under Poe’s ear. Poe hunches, chin to his chest so Finn can’t reach.

‘You keep that up, I’m gonna give myself a concussion,’ Poe warns him. ‘Or come in my pants.’

‘So take them off,’ Finn suggests it, without even thinking.

‘Yeah,’ Poe chuckles. He starts squirming around, hips lifting off the floor and taking up most of the space. ‘Great idea, buddy, just…’

After a series of grunts and thumps, Poe lands back on their bedding with a huff. He tugs the fabric of Finn’s pants, and the question’s barely left his lips before Finn’s undressing too. Finn has barely kicked his ankle free when Poe’s leg hooks around him, coaxing Finn to clamber up on top of him. Finn tries to balance on all fours, so his weight’s not bearing down on Poe, but Poe pulls him closer, hips grinding up so his cock is next to Finn’s. Finn gasps, thrusting for the sweat-slick slide of them together. Poe holds the back of his neck, crushing their mouths together—it’s like if they stop kissing for more than a minute, Poe’s going to explode. Finn would say so, except he can’t breathe. Poe stops for a moment, only to lick his own hand and sneak it between their bodies. Finn has to bite back a yelp when Poe wraps a hand around both of them.

‘This good?’ Poe asks.

‘Yeah,’ Finn nods. He can talk if he doesn’t move. ‘Really good.’

‘… yeah?’ he can _hear_ Poe’s eyebrow raising. Finn headbutts him very gently and Poe laughs. Then Finn rolls his hips, making Poe gasp and arch to meet him. His voice is almost pained. His fingers drive into the nape of Finn’s neck, easing some of the tension in Finn’s spine.

Poe starts stroking, finding a clumsy rhythm that manages to work for them both. He’s warm and writhing under Finn, head tilting back whenever he twists his wrist. He wraps his other leg around Finn’s waist, so his hips are tilted off the floor when he moves. Finn rests his weight on one arm so he can cradle Poe’s face. Poe’s tongue flicks out and draws Finn’s thumb into his mouth.

It should feel like being right back at square one, but now Poe’s suckling obscenely, teeth grazing on the pad as he smiles. Finn presses his lips to Poe’s cheek, not really a kiss so much as just gasping, close, trying to hold his breath so he’ll last. But the throbbing heat of Poe’s cock is beside his own, getting slicker as Poe’s arousal grows. Poe releases Finn’s thumb to clench his teeth, growling, quaking, pleading like he needs Finn’s permission to come. Finn thrusts into Poe’s grip, smothering Poe’s mouth with one more kiss. Poe shouts into it as he comes, shivering and slippery between them. His whole body stays taut, clinging to Finn as he keeps stroking, pulling Finn over the edge with him. The pleasure springs bright and sudden through Finn, and maybe he loses his balance for a second and collapses on top of Poe before he catches his breath. When he does, Poe is drawing aimless circles on Finn’s back, lips pressed to his forehead.

Finn starts to shift off him and Poe whines. It makes both of them laugh: Poe sounds somewhat choked, so Finn tumbles to one side and lands on the capes. Poe finds a shirt and wipes them clean (ish), before tossing it as far across the closet as possible. Then all of his heavy, naked limbs are tangling around Finn’s, so close Finn would swear he can feel Poe’s heart beating through his own chest.

Poe kisses his cheek and Finn reaches up to stroke Poe’s hair. Sweat has coiled it into tighter curls. The corner of Poe’s eye crinkles when Finn touches his temple.

‘Finn?’

There’s a way he says Finn’s name like nobody else does.

‘Yeah?’

Poe’s voice is slowing with sleep. ’You wanna take another shower with me tomorrow?’

Finn snorts, snuggling as close as he can to Poe. ‘Yeah, buddy. That sounds good.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone! I said this was for Oscar Isaac, but really it was for me and for all of us, because we deserve it.
> 
> I've embarked on [a post-Rise of Skywalker adventure fic, and I hope you enjoy it too!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060648/chapters/52648486)

**Author's Note:**

> [I have lots more finnpoe fic,](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=6452486&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=robotboy) and lots more Star Wars on my works page <3


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